Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Sudan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Sexual Harrassment to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Wyatt,
Soul II Soul,
Dorothy Ashby,
Colin Newman,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bill Near,
Heaven 17,
Sparks,
Slave,
The Sound,
Model 500,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Mummies,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Toni Rubio,
Harmonia,
Bob Dylan,
Neil Young,
The Beau Brummels,
The Litter,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Fluxion,
June Days,
Suburban Knight,
The New Christs,
The Monks,
The Buckinghams,
The Standells,
Magma,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Supertramp,
Second Layer,
Roxette,
Skriet,
The United States of America,
The Five Americans,
Gang of Four,
Ultimate Spinach,
David McCallum,
Bronski Beat,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Spandau Ballet,
Alice Coltrane,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Althea and Donna,
Oneida,
the Sonics,
The Tremeloes,
Marc Almond,
Pagans,
Swell Maps,
Bang On A Can,
Roger Hodgson,
Sandy B,
Absolute Body Control,
Tres Demented,
Morten Harket,
Boogie Down Productions,
Adolescents,
Henry Cow,
Can,
Oblivians,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.